You laugh in your sleep. The bed quivers beneath me as your body shakes. You never remember in the morning. Smiling in puzzlement at my amusement.
It was your night time laughter that ensnared me long ago; I fell in love to the music of your dreams. As we sleep you pull me tight against you. Your body is a shield to protect me, to entrap me. I sleep in a fortress of your arms and eyes and lips.
Once you cooked for me, wooing me with creamy carbonara. We danced bare foot and you held my wine glass for me, admonishing me not to drink too fast. Too late, I was already intoxicated.
When you first threw a glass it was only a fine line in the carapace of our love. You kissed my temple in apology. Thin cracks are easily filled.
There was a time you traced the back of my knees with your tongue and rained kisses upon the small of my back. You still rain upon me but the kisses are long gone.
You were an Adonis to my Aphrodite. Now your muscle is overlaid with beer. My cooking is to blame, I wear fear like a mantle.
Our home reeks with the stench of your anger. Testosterone and sweat and fury. Surely once you smelt of baby shampoo and sunshine? Was your childhood stolen as your rage steals the voices of our children?
Your break my jaw. When I scream your name it falls into the wasted shell of our marriage.
Red and blue light flickers upon the house; a desert poisoned by blood and snot and tears. You glare at me as they handcuff you. The demand for my silence bows my head. I almost succumb, my throat scarred with swallowing my shame.